I had gained confidence after coming out to Jazz like the confidence that filled someone who passed the mock exams to get prepared for the real ones. It was she who had dragged me to attend the Pride parade at Azad Maidan where people proudly carried the rainbow flags, placards with quirky remarks and clever asperses on this society. All around me were radiant smiles and glistening tears. It was overwhelming for me since my love for Lila had been so quiet and suppressed and here I was, in a loud and open space. I hugged the people who my mother would have avoided on the street by gripping my arm and surreptitiously pulling me to the side or crossing the street, just so we couldn't get close to someone who identified as someone different.

That night when I fell on the bed as light as a feather and as giddy as a child who had visited an amusement park, I knew that Freud was wrong. Lila had shown me his quote on her Instagram, 'Love is the most proven way to overcome the feelings of shame.' Instead, what ended up being true in my life was, 'Loving myself is the most proven way to overcome the feelings of shame.' I didn't know how long this feeling of self-love and optimism would last, yet I was grateful for today, for experiencing it today.

The days that followed were a constant repetition, train rides to college with Jazz, attending lectures with Shreya and Jazz, breaks with Jazz and train rides back home alone since Jazz preferred to stay late in the college for some activity or another. Even I joined a book club to stay at college late so I could avoid seeing Pavitra's rotting face that soured everyone's mood around her. Today was the first day of the book club. I was secretly thrilled for this even though in front of Jazz, I had played it cool. What if I met an interesting boy or a girl at the book club?

Any person reading a book instantly became ten times hotter for me, although Lila had been the kind of girl who would laugh at the most intellectual books, use the pages of it to make paper planes and fly them till the words would disappear and become meaningless. That was how she had been, making everything around her lose its meaning because of her larger than life personality and ability to arrest anyone's heart. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't free the prisoner. And here I was again, thinking about her and pressuring myself to forget her when one of my top new year's resolutions was to let my feelings evaporate naturally, instead of telling myself to let go of them.

The book club was a total flop, I was surrounded by people who read cheap romances by commercially popular authors and one such book with a raunchy cover was thrust in my hand. I didn't find any of the girls in the club interesting either, so I kept to myself, nodding and smiling at them like they were my distant relatives at Pavitra's wedding and waiting for the day to get over. When I aimlessly flipped through the pages, I found the bland protagonist and her erotic adventures with the hunky man more enthralling than the people around me.

That was how I ended up standing on the train on my way back home, staring and stifling a laugh at how the protagonist purred when the man slammed her aggressively against the wall.

"Meow?" I asked myself in surprise, how could she do that in that intimate moment? Then again, I never came close to being hot and heavy with a man. The last time that I inched towards it was when Anthony had ruthlessly, but inadvertently bit into my lip and not in a sexy way. That memory made me wince and when I looked up, I saw a familiar face peering at me in mild amusement from the general compartment of the train.

The second our eyes connected, Dev broke away our gaze and focused on the book that was laid open on his lap, natural and cool like the night that was seeping into the sky outside the window.

What on earth---? In the panic and peculiarity of finding him here, my eyes had flickered back to the words dripping with ribaldry in that embarrassing book that I held in my hands. He would have seen that smutty cover! I buried my shameless head deep in the book, sporadically stealing glances of him, but he never looked up again. Perhaps, he had seen enough. The rest of the ride back home was purgatory since I repented more about him having caught me like this than thinking about the poor spine of the protagonist who kept getting slammed against the wall as if she was a duster in an angry teacher's hand.

Yet, I didn't put the book away, I held it boldly in my hands to give him the impression that I was not embarrassed.

More people crammed themselves in the train and soon I became just another weary face in the sea of weary faces who yearned to be tucked under the covers of their bed. A station before my destination arrived, I drew a well-structured mental map in my head, to discern the best spots where I could shove my body in and wriggle my way towards the exit. People groaned, clicked their tongues and even cursed under their breath as our sweaty skins slipped against each other till I finally stood by the open door, taking a whiff of the lovely smell of the gutters that ran parallel to the tracks. But hey, at least none of my toenails became a martyr in this interminable war.

That excruciating excursion to the door had momentarily lifted the thoughts of Dev from my mind, but they forced their way back again. I submitted to their will and took a glimpse of him, trying to quench my curiosity. His tall figure was standing by the door and gazing out of the door like the earlier me who had not been checking him out. There was a book in his hand that he had been reading. He was wearing a black backpack, black headphones dangling on his neck. Unlike the few times that I had seen him dressed in a kurta, he looked just as handsome in a plain black t-shirt and jeans.

"Will you get down now or when this train reaches America?!" Someone yelled from behind me and I stumbled hurriedly onto the platform, incredulous at being so lost in my thoughts. The crowd dictated me to the stairs and commanded me to climb them as I kept my eyes fixed on the back of Dev's head. We drifted on the bridge with the crowd, him just a couple of bodies away from me, yet I couldn't reach him. Again, we climbed down the bridge and with every step down, I grew desperate to reach him. It reminded me of the infuriating times when the stupid remote was placed just a centimetre away from my grasp.

The crowd spilled out of the station, perfunctory people crossing and bumping into each other's paths, the chaos was so deep that the local traffic police was guiding the people instead of the cars. I couldn't see him anymore, the night was oozing from the sky and into the streets, flooding it with darkness. Certain, unfamiliar faces flashed under the orange glow of the streetlights before fading again, evanescent just like our feelings and memories.

I tried my hardest to recall the last figment of my memory of him, to trace him from there when I heard a voice from behind me, "Excuse me."

It was him! I had found him at last! He had been right behind me!

All my plans of apologising on behalf of my whorish sister jumbled in my head and the most common words tumbled out of my mouth, "Oh hi, haven't seen you since a long time!"

The pitch of my voice was not me, the excited expression would be livelier on Lila or Jazz's face, not on my sullen features where it felt irksome and false. I hoped that the soft-pop melody flowing from those unworn headphones of his would mask my voice. Nevertheless, his slightly, deep-set eyes bore into me in concentration and that gaze broke away when some entitled piece of faeces honked their car, yelling curses at the people who were walking and minding their own business.

"I wanted to talk to you about last time," I said, but he didn't hear me in the overlapping voices and honks so I shouted (nearly), "I said that wanted to talk to you about last time!" 

"Let's go ahead." He disengaged his headphones, leading me through the crowd. I was elbowed and shoved by the people, almost losing him again. Whereas his elegance and ease made him glide through the crowd as if he was sliding on ice, invincible to the people around him. That came with a level of expertise and I noted that he must be travelling via train at this rush hour every day, unlike me.

When the crowd thinned out and I began beating myself on how to start talking, his deep voice cut through the awkward silence, "Did you wish to tell me something?"

There was a knowing smile that curled the corners of his lips, in a genial manner. His behaviour today was a daydream compared to his nightmarish behaviour the last time we talked (rather, I argued). I wondered what had passed since then for him to generously lend an ear to me, the sister of the woman who cheated on his brother. Or perhaps, he knew what I was going to confess.

"You were right," I said, looking ahead at the street that was inflamed with the lurid lights of the shops. We were sauntering now that the streets were less busy and noisy. "It was uh my sister's fault. I'm sorry about what she did to your brother. She's not always like that . . . "

"It's their private matter. We don't have to discuss it," he said so firmly, reassuring me in one sentence to not cause further discomfort to me that I almost smiled in gratitude.

"Brave New World." I pointed at the cover of the book that he was holding. "That book messed me up."

He lifted it, inspecting it as if he had forgotten what he held. Then his gaze flickered to the silly book in my hand, an ironic look etched on his face. The faint smile never faded. "I haven't read yours."

He was teasing me!

"Oh, this." I casually swayed it, trying to show him that I was not humiliated at being caught reading that. Yet, I didn't want him to think that I read solely these kinds of books. I had the reputation of my Arts degree to save and pride of having read high-brow literature. "This book belongs to my friend." I had to supply him with a name, to make the lie believable. "My friend, Jazz. She reads this kind of fluff."

"I wouldn't call that fluff," he said, smiling such an intelligent smile that I laughed nervously. Without warning, he took the book from me and opened the page with the dog's ear, but when he did that, it didn't seem intrusive. By now, I had realized how smoothly he moved, naturally claiming every space he trod on and every object he chanced upon without a hint of arrogance.  But I would rather die than see him read one of those lascivious words. Before I could snatch it back from him, he said, "Purred, huh?"

As if heavens commanded this, a black cat with the semblance of a panther leapt from a nearby wall and meowed, making me burst into peals of laughter as my eyes danced towards Dev whose look of surprised amusement (more at my laughter than at the incident) arose fresh laughter in me. 

I hadn't laughed like this since last summer.

* * *

Glossary :

Azad Maidan : a ground in Mumbai.

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